


Don't Leave Me

by orphan_account



Category: DCU
Genre: Amnesia, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After a few drinks at the bar Clark decides to go home. Unfortunately he took a wrong turn and somehow ended up with an amnesiac man in his living room.It doesn't take long for Clark to realize he has feelings for this man, is it bad to hope his memories don't return too soon?*Experimental Fic. Don't read if you're expecting quality writing*
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	Don't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind I'm not a writer and this was just for fun.

Looking out into the midst, Clark smiled. It was a beautiful night after all. The wind, oh, the wind. He could smell the freshness in the gentle breeze and feel the cozy thickness in the air. After having gone to the bar, he admittedly got wasted slightly more than he should. But this was a much-needed break. Evenings are pleasant, he decided. When the sun is just about gone, when the sky turns into a mix of shades and colors, everything looks, it just looks right.

After having looked at the sky for long enough, Clark turned to walk away and go home. Walking down an alleyway he realized he made a wrong a turn. Just as he was about to go back, he tripped. Toppling face-first, into someone Clark sobered, rapidly.

"Ah!" he squeaked out, wincing at the fall. Luckily he'd been cushioned by another body.

"AH!" He yelled, realizing he'd just fallen on someone.

Scrambling to get off, Clark practically jumped back and examined the lying body before him. Well, at least whoever it was, he wasn't dead. The guy did give off a classy vibe, though.

Just by the look of him, Clark could tell he'd been in a mugging. The man wore a suit, shame it was all ruffled and torn now. What he wore didn't look cheap either, heck, what this guy wore was probably worth more than Clark's apartment. Maybe it was all the alcohol, but something made Clark forget that he knew absolutely nothing about this stranger. So yeah, Clark picked him up and heavily supported the unconscious man to his home. Maybe Clark wasn't entirely sober yet.  
Luckily he didn't live far. As soon as he got home and rested the man on his couch, well, that's when the panic started to settle in.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. Why am I doing this again?"

"Oh, that's right! I decided to be a good person and brought home a stranger, a complete stranger." Pacing around the room was really not helping.

"Honestly, I should have just left the guy. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"  
"I could just let him sleep it off on my couch, that's been working so far, I guess."

CB

Everything looks so bright. I can't concentrate. Why is everything so blurry?  
All these lights look so- pretty? No. They look sad.  
And what's that horrible sound? Is that me? No. Is it? Honestly, I can't tell. Does it matter?  
My head hurts, my throat's sore, there's so much thumping. Scratch that, everything hurts.  
Can I go home now?  
If only I could remember where exactly that was.  
I can't think anymore.

I'll doze off again, yeah, that sounds nice.

"mm" I know I'm curling into something. It smells nice. I think it's a pillow, no, feels like a blanket? Probably both.  
Now that I can feel the sunlight hitting my face, I should probably start getting up.

Ugh

I'm too comfortable. And I've never liked mornings much anyways.

I'm scared, I can't tell if I like mornings, or not, I hate not knowing. Or do I? No. I can tell, I can tell.  
Suddenly I don't want to get up again but for different reasons. I can feel my blood run cold, and my face heat up.

My chest begins to rise and fall, my throat goes dry, and I can hear my loud breaths.

Am I hyperventilating? Is this a panic attack?

I don't want to open my eyes now.  
I'm scared of what I'll see. I'm afraid I won't recognize it.  
I'm scared to ask the question my mind is dying to voice.  
Who am I?  
Why don't I know anything?  
Stupid.  
I'm stupid.  
I can't.  
Why?

Why.

CB

It didn't feel right going to bed and just leaving this man here. Clark was tired, I mean he has a right to be. Deciding on settling on the kitchen counter, he quickly made himself comfortable. As tired as Clark was, there were too many questions running through his head right now for sleep.

Who was this man?  
Is he a criminal who got into trouble with, I don't know, the mob?  
Hmm  
Maybe he should have examined the bastard more thoroughly.  
Yeah.  
In the process, Clark would also be doing the man a favor. He had only laid the man down on the couch. Now Clark can search for any serious injuries while making the sleeping man more comfortable.

Getting up, Clark realized he wanted to go to sleep again. He wasn't that comfortable on a seat and counter, but the atmosphere felt like sleep. Brushing that aside he walked past the man and into a small hallway leading to his room. Wincing, Clark turned on the light. He grabbed two pillows from his bed and started to make his towards the door.

"What the hell," he grumbled, turning back again. Might as well give the stranger a spare blanket too. Snatching one from his drawer, he went out and turned the lights back off after him.

Once returning to the living room, he set the small bundle on the floor next to the couch and began to think.

Standing over this guy made him feel like a creep. Where should he start? Um. Maybe he should turn the lights on. No. Clark had better night vision than most, and besides, turning on the lights would only increase the chances of the man waking up. Yeah, diffidently not ready for that.

"okay"

"Here we go."

Carefully Clark started on removing the man's jacket. Not that it was an easy feat. How didn't Clark realize it before? The man is heavy, and not just heavy, he also happens to be built like a tank. Once that was over, Clark moved down to remove his shoes.

He winced at the thought of this guy dirtying his items. Maybe he should clean him off just a bit? At least his face and hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome. I'm not expecting many people to read this, but if you did, I hope it didn't suck too bad.


End file.
